


From The Ashes (We Rise)

by sarcastic_fina



Category: Glee
Genre: F/M, future!fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-05
Updated: 2012-06-05
Packaged: 2017-11-06 21:47:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/423610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarcastic_fina/pseuds/sarcastic_fina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One neighbor, a stick of incense, seven cats in a small apartment, and suddenly Rachel Berry is homeless. But fate steps in at just the right time and before she knows it, she's reunited with Noah Puckerman. Second chances have never looked so good.</p>
            </blockquote>





	From The Ashes (We Rise)

Rachel stared in shock at the burning rubble of her apartment building. Fine, rubble was a bit dramatic seeing as the building itself was still standing. But flames licked from the windows and smoke billowed up in dark plumes that blotted out the city lamps that lined the street before it. Her fellow tenants stood chunked together, watching in shocked misery as the New York City fire department worked hard to put out the flames. She turned her eyes away as yet another hose shot a powerful surge of water toward her window, where her soft pink curtains were no longer flittering in the cool night breeze, but black and destroyed. She was sure the glass ballerina statues that used to sit on the ledge were gone too. And the matching tea towel, dish cloth and oven mitts were likely all lost. Along with her furniture. Oh, but she mourned her classic, pristine white, wing-backed chair with silver nailheads ringing the bottom. She'd searched all over for just the right chair to read scripts in and it had been her perfect match, with its cushy, wide seat, large enough that she could easily curl up in it, legs and feet tucked beneath her. The lamp just over her shoulder shedding light on the pages and a small end table with her favorite tea always within reach.  _Gone_.

The fire had started a floor above, in old Miss. Brennan's apartment, no doubt from the copious amounts of incense she used to cover up the odor of too many cats, stale furniture, and terrible cooking. Miss. Brennan was fine though, and all seven of her cats were too. She'd nearly broken a hip when she went screaming from her apartment, racing all over and shouting for help. But the fire spread fast, burning through the cheap carpet and eating up the walls. Rachel was certain that her apartment was unsalvageable, being that it was directly below hers.

A scratchy blanket hugged her shoulders, but it did little to keep the chill out. It wasn't the wind, though it whipped her hair around her face. The simple fact was that Rachel was now homeless. Sure, she could afford a hotel but for how long? She was in-between gigs, currently looking for the right role. And she had a few to pick from. She was twenty-four now and she'd made a name for herself. But she wanted that big role, the Tony-award winning one. With only a year left to get it, she had goals she wasn't willing to budge on, she was just a little bit more skeptical about each role that was put in her capable hands. For the time being, however, she would have to dedicate time to finding a new apartment and most likely starting from scratch. All of her playbills, her pictures, her journals, and sheet music, gone. Her photo album, filled with every play she'd ever done, of her times at NYADA, of her life leading up to this point, disintegrated.

Her eyes burned with tears that she was sure anybody else might mistake simply for the bite of acrid smoke surrounding them. But Rachel knew it was for the loss of memories. Sure, she had them in her head and would cherish them. It wasn't the same as having visual proof of who she was, of those friends she hardly ever saw or spoke to anymore. Of fellow actors and actresses and singers coming up in the world. Of her old glee club, first starting out and eventually winning a National title. Of the boy she'd once thought she would marry, but hadn't seen or spoken to in nearly six years. Finn was married now, she'd heard from Kurt, who was currently on his own honeymoon. Finn had a lovely wife in a girl he'd met a handful of years ago at the State college that suited him far better than New York ever could. And Rachel felt no pang in her heart over it. She'd long buried any regrets she might have had, recognizing that he was her first love, but not her last.

"Rachel?"

Brows furrowed, Rachel turned her head this way and that, mind still a little blurred with all of her reminiscing and mourning. Finally, she settled on a man, broad-shouldered and wearing a heavy black coat with yellow and grey stripes ringing the elbows, forearms, chest and bottom. Matching black pants with the reflective grey and yellow rings at his calves covered his lower half, along with a pair of heavy dark boots. He pulled the black helmet off his head and for a moment she was sad to see he no longer had a Mohawk. It was short-lived however, as the fact that Noah Puckerman was standing before her, and what did it really matter what his hairstyle was?

" _Noah?_ "

He smirked, infuriatingly enough, and his head tilted slightly, eyes dropping as if she'd said something particularly amusing. But when he looked back up, his smile had faded, focusing instead on the blanket shrouding her small body. Brows furrowed, he glanced back at the building. "You lived here."

It wasn't a question, but she nodded anyway. "Yes, I was in 401-D," she told him, frowning helplessly.

He winced and ate up the space between them with a few long strides. "Just beneath the hot spot, huh?"

Her lips folded up. "It was those incense sticks, wasn't it?" She turned her head to glare in the general direction of Miss. Brennan even though she was fairly sure the poor woman was taken away to the hospital for smoke inhalation or something similar.

He snorted. "I don't know. Right now we're just trying to get everything under control."

She looked back at him, eyes taking in his gear once more. "You're a firefighter," she said, before immediately admonishing herself inwardly for stating the obvious.

His smirk was back though, and she thought it was far more fitting than the frown. "Yeah, well…" He shrugged. "I should probably get back to it; see if we can't salvage something from your building."

Her nose wrinkled. "I hardly think anything's left of my apartment."

"Probably not."

She raised a brow. "Shouldn't you be more comforting?"

"I fight the fires, babe. I don't counsel the victims," he said, shrugging.

"Still as incorrigible as ever," she said, with an odd affection inflecting her voice.

He winked at her, before putting his helmet back on. "You sticking around here or you got somewhere to go?"

She bit her lip, frowning. "I would stay with Kurt but I'm afraid he's not in town…" She sighed, eyes darting up to her window once more. "And my spare key to his apartment is currently being covered with the remains of my apartment."

He nodded, tongue darting out to lick his lips quickly. "Well, look, you stick around a bit and when we got this out, you can bunk at my place."

Her eyes widened. "Oh, Noah, that—that's very gallant of you. But…" She shook her head. "It's too much. I—I'm sure I can find a passable hotel and—"

"Yeah, I'm not gonna bullshit around with you about this. You want to, you got a place at my apartment tonight. If not, catch a cab and take a hotel. Your choice, Berry." As he started walking away, he called out in what she was sure he thought was an encouraging tone, "But I've got free cable, cold beer and pizza, so… No brainer."

She laughed shortly, rolling her eyes. But before she could say anything more, he'd turned around and returned to help his team in putting out the fire still burning up the brownstone building. The attractive green vines that had once crept along the front, weaving between two windows and up, up, spindly brown branches spider-webbing across the bricks, were now withered and black, falling in chunks to the ground. The fire was beautiful in a terrible, destructive way. Eating away at the simple beauty around it, turning it into charred remains, blanketing every free space it came upon. She watched, feeling the heat of it even from where she stood across the road. The sirens still blared in warning, but they were hollow in her ears now, distant. The crowd began to break up, her fellow residents leaving to find somewhere else to stay.

She should have followed suit. Caught a cab and found a hotel. She'd had enough sense to grab her bag, where her wallet and phone lay, though she'd left her keys sitting in the dish next to the door. But instead of calling for a ride, she took a seat on a bench and tucked her feet up beneath her, briefly noticing the sooty pink slippers she'd run out wearing. How ridiculous, she thought. Bag in her lap, she brought her phone out and began texting friends and family. Letting them know tragedy had struck while still assuring that she was technically fine, although without a home, clothes, or her usual necessities. Her fathers, of course, immediately asked her to return home and stay with them until she was able to find a place. But Lima was too far from where she wanted to be and she felt as if leaving, even for a brief time, would be pausing her life in a way she simply wasn't willing to do. Kurt reminded her that his apartment was as good as hers while he was away, but sadly added that she was the only owner of a spare key and thus she had no way to get in. While she had a number of acquaintances and a few friends from her career, something very like pride kept her from reaching out and asking if they might mind her staying with them. She couldn't say she was as close to any of them as she was Kurt, and so asking for that courtesy seemed a little too much to her.

When her eyes wandered back up, seeing a sea of black coats and yellow reflective tape, she tried to see which of them was Noah. She couldn't be certain, though she focused on one and dubbed it him, working diligently, focused and strong. This was the first time she'd seen Noah since graduation, though it was far from the first time she'd wondered about him. Where he was, what he'd done with his life, how he was doing. She was glad, proud even, to see that he'd done something great. That not only had he gotten out of Lima and was quite obviously not close to being either dead or in jail, but that he'd taken a job that although dangerous, put some of his best traits to work. His desire to help people, to stand up for the weak. Sure, he hadn't started out that way, but when those instincts had been awoken in him, it was no wonder that he'd chosen a career where he was saving people.

She wasn't sure how long she waited, but eventually the fire abated. The flames began to die down, doused in water and fought relentlessly. Other firefighters came and some went and eventually her building was just smoking, no longer aflame. She stared at her window, where the proof of fire was imprinted in black wings reaching out across the bricks around her kitchen and bedroom window. And she sighed, tired, exhausted really. She felt ready to turn over on her side and fall asleep right there on the bench, despite the cold wind and the fact that, well, she was outside.

"You ready, Princess?"

She looked up then, blinking against exhaustion, to find Noah standing front of her, coat unbuttoned and helmet hugged to his hip. "Ready?"

He half-smiled. "To go."

"Oh…" Her brows furrowed as she untucked her feet and rose unsteadily to her feet. "Oh, yes."

He reached for her and for a moment she wasn't sure what to do, but then his arm was around her, hand on the small of her back, guiding her down the sidewalk. He waved at a few of the other firemen, told them he'd see them later, before continuing on down the road. She wasn't sure where they were going. Did he live close? He didn't say anything as they walked and Rachel almost felt like closing her eyes, letting the cool air caress her face as they got farther and farther away from the smoke and the heat, letting him bring her wherever it was they were headed, trusting in him to get her there in one piece. And how funny it was that she still trusted this boy— no,  _man_ , when she hadn't seen him in so long.

"Six years," she murmured. "And still saving me."

He looked at her suddenly and she realized too late that she'd said it aloud. But he didn't call her on it, though she thought she felt his fingertips press a little more insistently at her back. It could have been delirium from a lack of sleep, however. And that's what she would tell herself later, to justify the way her teeth dug into her bottom lip and her fingers twitched. Noah had lovely hands. Large with long, dexterous fingers, the pads of which were rough with calluses, from strumming guitars and fixing cars and whatever else it was he did. Did he still do those things? Or did his firefighting consume his life?

"Do you still play?" she asked suddenly, turning her head to face him.

How funny it must look to others, this larger than life man in his firefighting gear, guiding the petite girl, in her pajamas and robe and her dirt and soot stained slippers.

As if he knew exactly what she was thinking, what she was talking about, despite it coming out of nowhere, he nodded. "'Course. Still got my guitar. Write my own songs, too."

She smiled helplessly, remembering 'Big Ass Heart,' his first original song. Which brought her back to 'Sweet Caroline' and 'Need You Now' and suddenly she sighed. "Will you play for me?"

He chuckled. "Maybe tomorrow."

Her lips stuck out in a pout.

"You're tired," he told her.

She turned her eyes up to him. "Yes…"

"Your apartment just went up in smoke."

She nodded. "It did."

"You should probably get some sleep. Tomorrow's gonna be hell."

"Noah Puckerman, fighting me with logic." She smiled. "You  _have_ grown up."

He leered at her playfully. "Not too much."

She rolled her eyes, swatting at him. But her hand meeting his arm felt like a feather meeting steel. Without thinking, she squeezed his bicep. "Seems you've grown in other ways too."

He smirked lazily.

She released his arm before she stroked his ego too much. "What brought you here, Noah? To New York?"

He glanced at her and then away. "Got my bachelor of science in Cincy at UC… Started training and I dunno… I worked in Rochester for awhile. Shit went down and whatever, I wound up in NYC and it fit. Finally felt like I was where I was supposed to be, so…" He shrugged.

"You should've looked me up," she told him. "If I'd known you were here…"

"Yeah, well…" He cleared his throat. "I saw you on stage once."

She looked over, her brows lifted. "You did?"

He nodded, licking his lips. "You were pretty amazing." He half-smiled at her. "Like usual."

She grinned, ducking her head. She should be used to praise by now. She had a number of fans always willing to dish it out to her. But there was something about hearing it from someone who'd known her when she was a nobody; when she was just a girl with a dream, fighting for it to come true, standing up against the oppression of high school, against ridicule and slushees and failure. There was something about hearing it from Noah Puckerman. "You could've come backstage. I would've shown you around, introduced you to the cast…" She smiled. "Maybe next time."

"Maybe," he allowed.

He stopped then and Rachel was momentarily confused, eyes darting. She hadn't realized how far they'd walked in that short time, but they were standing outside of a red brick building, with tall windows ringed in black boarders and stone ledges with plants spilling over their pots. Black iron bars made a fence around the front of the building, leading up to either side of the four steps.

Noah climbed the stairs and pressed a button on the comm. for one of his neighbors.

"What?" came a tired voice.

"It's Puck, I left my keys at the station, buzz me in," was all he said.

There was an irritated sigh, but a buzz let them know it was unlocked and he was quick to grab the door and swing it open. Rachel followed him inside, eyes wandering around the hall. There was a wall of silver mailboxes and a basket beneath for flyers or junk mail. Three apartments filled the main floor, one marked 'Superintendent,' with a note beneath that read, 'No calls after 6.' The other doors were such a dark brown they were nearly black, with shiny gold numbers screwed in, front and center. There was no elevator to speak of, but she imagined with the shape Noah was in, he didn't even notice the climb. Rachel, however, was tired, and felt like her legs were lead weights. She used the banister, hand sliding over the smooth wood as she climbed. He was gentlemanly enough not to mention it and just walk slower next to her, but when they reached the third floor and she was about to offer to just sleep there on the landing, he scooped her up in his arms.

"Noah!" she complained, although she couldn't say lying in his arms was any great injustice in her life.

"I do this for a  _living_ ," he said, climbing the stairs swiftly enough.

He lived on the fourth floor and only dropped her back to her feet as they reached his door. He walked to the fire extinguisher down the hall, tucked in its place built into the wall, and lifted it to grab the spare key from beneath. Walking back to her, he used it to unlock the door before he put it back in its place and then nudged her forward and inside. She squinted as she stepped into the dark unknown before her, blinking rapidly when he shut the door behind him and flicked on the light. She wasn't sure what she was expecting; a bachelor pad, maybe. With shag carpeting, a permanent poker table, and some cheesy Marvin Gaye that automatically turned on as soon as a woman walked into the room, the silken classic voice crooning 'Let's Get It On,' to instantly put a woman in the mood. But Noah's apartment was nice, casual. He had an overstuffed couch and a giant armchair that looked as though it was well used. He had a shelf overflowing with CDs and movies, next to a much too large television. A stereo was set up on the adjacent wall, with large speakers and a few loose CD cases scattered over the top. A dying plant sat in the window, withering, with one long, reaching arm of greenery. She imagined he only remembered to water it every once in awhile. It was probably the first and only plant he'd ever owned. She smiled at the thought.

His kitchen was small, with a square brown table and two chairs stuck in close. The counter space was lackluster but he made-do with hanging some of his larger cooking utensils on a wall unit. There was even a Kiss the Cook apron hanging off a hook. She briefly found herself wondering if maybe he had a girlfriend, who could very well possibly be in the apartment. How awkward. And even if there was no such person in the apartment, she noticed there was only one bedroom and a bathroom, which meant she would no doubt be taking the couch. She couldn't expect his kindness to reach so far as to let her have the bed too. And she wasn't sure she would ask it of him, either. The idea of lying in his bed, face buried in pillows that smelled like him, she was fairly sure she wouldn't get any sleep at all.

"Your place is very nice," she told him.

"Works for me," he said, shrugging off his heavy coat and hanging it up in his closet. The white t-shirt he wore beneath clung to him. He still had that lean, toned definition to his body. Wide shoulders and a full, masculine torso, filled out the cotton shirt wonderfully. It hugged his arms, where she could now see his biceps were even more defined than in high school. Suspenders hung down, clipping to his pants. He undid them, flipping them over his shoulders to hang down from the back.

"I'm gonna shower," he told her. "I smell like smoke."

She nodded, her throat tight. "C-Could I have some water?"

He pointed toward the kitchen. "Help yourself. Whatever you want."

As he walked off, her eyes trailed after him, and she wondered for a moment if what she wanted could even be found in the kitchen, and not the bathroom. Shaking it off, she walked to the fridge. Like he'd said earlier, he had cold beer and leftover pizza, though neither of those were anything she wanted. She found a head of lettuce and a few vegetables in the crisper though, salvageable enough that she could make a salad. He had a vinaigrette dressing that she was almost certain he'd never used. Perhaps an ex-girlfriend? She told herself to stop wondering about his personal life so much and instead focused on making up her meal and drinking from the bottle of water she'd snagged from the door of his fridge.

Sitting on his large armchair, mourning her own once more, she curled up with her salad balanced on her knee. As she waited for Noah to return, she noticed that she didn't exactly smell like roses herself. Smoke clung to her clothes and her skin and it was a bitter smell that she hated having to breathe in at all. She listened for the sound of the water turning off and shut down every loose thought about a naked Noah under the hot, pulsing spray. When finally it stopped, she'd barely touched her food though, mind helplessly wondering.

And it froze entirely when he stepped out of his bathroom in nothing but a low-slung towel. She almost wanted to cover her eyes, feeling childish and far more innocent than she actually was. His was not the first half-naked body she'd seen. Although it was certainly the most attractive. Her eyes followed a drop of water that ran down between his pecs and fell trapped in the dark trail of hair that led from a few inches above his navel and down, down to beneath the dark green towel.

"Rach?"

Her eyes darted up to meet his, though she spotted the tilt of a smile on his lips. "You wanna jump in now?"

"Oh…" She looked away, brows furrowed. "I—I don't really have anything else to wear. And…" She wrinkled her nose. "I'm not sure I could bring myself to put this back on after I was clean and refreshed." She looked down at herself, finding her pajamas to be entirely too scruffy for her liking.

"I'll find you something," he offered. He pointed a thumb back behind him. "I'll leave it on the counter."

Matter closed, he walked off to his bedroom. And nobody could blame her for watching him go, water dripping down his flexing back. Licking her lips, she pointedly turned in the direction of the bathroom and hurried toward it. Closing the door, s he took a deep breath but found it full of warm steam from the just finished shower. The mirror was fogged too. She wasn't sure she wanted to see what she looked like at the moment anyway. Although she imagined her cheeks were flushed, her hair a mess, and her skin touched with soot. She kicked off her slippers but lined them up against the wall, hoping they might be somewhat salvageable. Stripping off her clothes, she folded them up and laid them on the closed toilet seat, before finally walking to the shower and turning the water on, testing it with her hand.

When finally she stood under the spray, she sighed in relief. She felt her body begin to relax, the muscles loosening from head to toe. Her hair drooped, wet, hanging sloppily down her back. Noah's shampoo and conditioner was a 2-in-1, which was unfortunate, to say the least. Her hair treatment regiment was…  _involved_. But it would have to do. His bodywash was very masculine too, with a woodsy scent that she imagined fit him quite nicely, while she herself was used to more flowery, softer scents. But she wanted her skin clean and so she scrubbed it in, rubbing her body down from head to toe. She hummed under her breath, eyes closed, letting the bubbles in her hair and draping her body, drip and wash away, fingers weaving through her hair and slicking it back. She almost didn't hear the sound of the door opening, but when she did, her heart thudded loud and her humming lost its tune. All she could think of was that he was just feet away, with only a thin piece of shower curtain separating her naked body from him.

The door closed seconds later though and she told herself it was a silly thought. She'd known Noah, the boy from her glee club, from high school. The man out there, who fought fires and lived in New York and who knows what else, was practically a stranger to her. There was so much she probably didn't know about him. Like whether or not he had a girlfriend. A question that had been plaguing her possibly since he'd said her name when she'd been standing outside the building. And what a silly question to ponder when there were so many other things to think about. Like where she was going to live, how she was going to afford new furniture, if there was anything left of her apartment at all.

She climbed out of the shower when the water started to cool. Noah left her two towels, a face cloth, and a t-shirt that she was sure would reach her knees. Unwilling to walk around bare beneath a shirt, especially since her thoughts were entirely too hormonally driven of late, she pulled on her panties, possibly the only item of clothing she'd been wearing that wasn't dirty or dark with soot.

Her hair was still dripping when she left his bathroom, a cloud of steam following her, her arms filled with her folded clothes and the damp towels she'd used. His grey t-shirt hung to her mid-thighs.

"You can drop that stuff in my laundry basket. I'll take it down tomorrow morning," he told her.

She found him standing in the kitchen in a pair of sweat pants and white wife-beater, his back to her as he went through the fridge. Assuming his laundry basket was in his room, she walked toward it, flicking the light on and letting her eyes wander the area. He had a large bed, sandwiched by two night stands, a lamp on either one. An alarm clock and a book were set on what she assumed was the side he preferred, the left. She noticed a couple pictures on his dresser, one of what had to be Beth, six years old and just as beautiful as ever. Another was of his sister Sarah. The last two were of what looked to be his fire-squad, seeing as they were all wearing FDNY t-shirts, arms around each other while a few were flexing their arms dramatically. She smiled to herself as she found the laundry basket and dropped everything inside.

He was on his couch with a plate of cold pizza and a beer on the coffee table where his feet were crossed and resting.

She sat back down on the armchair, feeling oddly naked though she was sure Noah had seen and even felt far more of her legs than what the shirt was currently showing.

Reaching up, she tucked her damp hair behind her ears and let her eyes wander from his feet up. His plate was resting on his stomach as he leaned back into the couch.

"Thank you for letting me stay, Noah," she told him. "I appreciate your hospitality."

He shrugged, looking entirely at ease with her. "You're still a midget, not like you take up much space."

She pursed her lips to keep from smiling and shook her head. "What is so difficult about simply saying 'You're welcome, Rachel'?"

Through a mouthful of pizza, he garbled, " _You're welcome, Rachel_."

She rolled her eyes.

Reaching for his beer, he knocked back a few swigs and licked his lips. "So?" He raised a brow at her. "How's life been? Six years later and all I know is you were in at least one play and you had a kick ass apartment before it burned."

She sighed. "It  _was_ a lovely apartment…" Leaning back in her seat, she reached for the bottle of water she'd left behind and unscrewed the cap distractedly. "Well, I went to NYADA, but you knew that."

"Saw you off on the train," he agreed, nodding.

"And it was wonderful." She smiled brightly. "For once, I felt like I really fit in." Sighing wistfully, she tipped her head in memory. "And when I left, I immediately started looking for work, for a breakout role." She combed her fingers through her hair. "I've been in a number of shows and I've received mostly good reviews. There've been a few negative ones." She wrinkled her nose. "But I haven't found that big one yet. The one that will define me from everyone else."

He stared at her thoughtfully, before saying simply, "You'll find it."

She looked at him, with pizza crumbs on his shirt and a beer in hand, a faint shadow of whiskers along his jaw, his hair shaven like usual, the strip of a Mohawk long gone. The cocky youthfulness she remembered was still there just a little, in the quirk of a smirk that touched his mouth sometimes, or the mischief in his eyes when he teased her. But she could also see a change in him, growth and maybe a calm acceptance, of himself perhaps.

"You look happy," she told him softly.

"I am." He half-smiled. "I took off not long after graduation, got out of Lima as quick as I could. Cincinnati was where I needed to be. It was still Ohio, but it worked for me. I never really though I'd fit in at a university, but…" He drew in a deep breath, his brows hiked. "I guess when I really want something, I can actually buckle down and get it."

She grinned wryly. "If I remember correctly, you were always very good at getting what you wanted."

He stared at her a long moment, brows furrowed faintly. "Some things… Not usually things that really mattered." He snorted, draining his beer. "Girls and cougars and popularity, that shit was easy…" He licked his lips. "Family, friendship, loyalty…  _love_ … Always got away from me." He shook his head, folding his mouth up in a frown. He picked and peeled at the label on his beer. "Got myself a head-doctor though, y'know? Try and figure out what was so wrong with me…"

Rachel frowned. "Noah, there was nothing  _wrong_ with you."

"History said different…" He shrugged. "Anyway…" He scrubbed a hand at his jaw, dragging his knuckles over the whiskers. "Doc said I had issues coming out my ass… Between my parents and constant rejection from just about everybody I ever cared about, all that sex with people who should've realized I was just a kid…" He snorted, shaking his head. "Quinn and Finn and Beth… I was like a shrink's wet dream."

Rachel sat forward in her chair, clasping her hands tight around the bottle. "Noah, if I'd known you were feeling this awful about yourself…"

He looked over at her sharply. "You were pretty involved with your Finchel drama."

She winced, her eyes falling. "You're right…" She smiled sadly. " _Too_ involved."

He raised a brow.

"Finn and I went our separate ways… He's happily married now to a very nice girl, from what I hear…" She nodded. "And I don't regret it." She tipped her head. "Well, I regret how blind I was in high school. How much I gave up of myself and how readily I would've given up everything for… for a  _boy_ …" She sighed. "But I suppose it was good it happened then and not later. I learned my lesson before it could destroy my future." She turned to look at him. "But maybe I should've learned it sooner." She shook her head. "Noah, I'm sorry I was such a bad friend to you… I should've paid more attention and realized you were struggling. So much had happened in your life and we were all so caught up in ourselves and Nationals that we overlooked you. And for that I am  _truly_ sorry."

He stared at her, licked his lips and then nodded. "S'in the past, right?" He shrugged. "I got over it. Got myself through school, moved on."

"What was Rochester like?" she wondered. "I've never been there."

A shadow passed over his face. "It was good… Probably would've stayed there, lived out my whole life."

Her brows furrowed. "But you didn't?"

His jaw ticked, teeth grinding.

"We don't have to talk about it," she murmured, worried she'd touched a nerve without meaning to.

He shook his head. "I just had a friend…" He swallowed tightly. "Name was Jerry. Good guy." He half-smiled. "You'd of liked him."

"If he's your friend then I'm sure you're right," she offered.

"He died," he told her, eyes centered on the table in front of him, but distant, caught up in his head. "There was a fire… Support beam splintered… Floor tilted…" He paused for a long moment. "Went right through his stomach, his guts were hanging out his jacket…" He sniffed hard, and reached forward to drop his empty beer bottle on the table. "Carried him down six flights of stairs, but he died in the ambulance…" His hands fisted in his lap, knuckles turning white with the pressure. "Wife was six months pregnant… I was the best man at their wedding."

"Oh, Noah…" she breathed. Standing from the chair, she circled the table to sit next to him. He didn't look at her when she covered his hand with hers, her thumb rubbing against his wrist. "I'm sorry… I'm sorry you lost your friend."

He shook his head, chin wobbling. "Couldn't live there after that… Couldn't really…  _cope_."

"That's understandable," she told him, nodding.

"So I took off and I dunno… Wound up here." He shrugged. "Fit better. The music scene, no bad memories except that shitty Finchel kiss that lost us Nationals."

She pursed her lips, but softened when his mouth tilted, his humor shining through.

"Is that why you started seeing a psychologist?" she wondered, fingers moving in slow circles over his hands, watching as they relaxed, as his fingers unfurled.

"I froze up at a fire… Just stood in the street and stared at the building like an idiot, staring at the flames.  _Stupid_. People could've been dying, team needed my help, but all I did was stand there like a douche…" He sighed. "Captain told me to get help or lose my job…" His jaw ticked. "I was  _meant_  to be a firefighter… I couldn't give it up."

"Maybe it was a blessing in disguise."

He flinched.

"Not the death of your friend," she soothed. "But freezing up that day. I'm sure you felt awful, helpless, like you were letting your team down." She raised her eyes to look at him searchingly. "But if it hadn't happened, you wouldn't have seen this doctor and worked on everything that was hurting you."

He stared back at her. "Maybe."

"You seem calmer, Noah." She tipped her head. "You were always very good at being laid back, but… there was always a certain excited energy about you. It's not there anymore. Not nipping at your heels to drive you headlong into danger or mischief." She smiled faintly. "It's good to see you've found your passion… Your  _Broadway_ , I guess."

He snorted. "The guys aren't really into showtunes."

She lifted her nose in the air and said with all authority, "I could change their minds."

He laughed, lighthearted and good-naturedly. "Yeah, I'm sure."

"I  _could_ ," she argued, huffing.

He reached out, lifting a loose tendril of hair from her cheek and tucking it gently behind her ear.

Her breath caught and she suppressed a shiver as his fingers slowly, lightly, skimmed against her skin.

"Noah?"

He didn't say anything at first, eyes centered on her lips. And she felt sixteen again, with this same boy, looking at her the same way, leaning in for a kiss that she desperately wanted. There was no Jesse waiting in the wings this time. No reason to say no. They were both consenting adults with a history. It wouldn't be so wrong.

But then he cleared his throat and turned his eyes away. "We should go to sleep."

"Oh. Uh, yes." She turned forward, drawing her hands away and back to her lap. "Is there a blanket I could use? The couch seems quite comfy."

He snorted and, standing from the couch, he shook his head. "Bed's big enough for both of us."

She stared up at him, her eyes wide and round. Funny how the idea of sharing a bed with him now didn't seem so appealing when seconds ago kissing him seemed like such a great idea. "Oh, well, I—I—"

"I don't bite," he told her. "'less you want me to." He grabbed up his empty plate and bottle and walked to his kitchen, not bothering to see her reaction.

Eventually, regaining her wits, she stood to follow him. "I suppose it shouldn't be a problem… You stay on your side and I'll stay on mine."

"Technically, both sides are mine." He wiggled his eyebrows at her as he walked into his room.

Mouth suddenly dry, Rachel bit her lip as she stepped back into his room, wiggling her toes in the carpet absently.

Like expected, he went to the left side of the bed, and turned on the lamp there.

Rachel turned off the ceiling light and crept around to the right side, lifting the blanket and sheet and crawling between, hissing as the cool fabric that met her mostly bare skin.

Her eyebrows hiked high when he dragged off his shirt and climbed in next to her. Despite having seen miles of that naked skin not very long ago, it still felt like a shock to her system. Tanned and toned as ever, his body fairly rippled, muscles moving and flexing as he laid down, tucking an arm behind his bed, stretching his bicep attractively.

Rachel tried not to stare, but she was fairly sure she failed miserably.

Sinking down lower in the bed, she forced her eyes to the ceiling.

"What time is it?" she wondered.

"Late," he replied.

She pursed her lips in frustration.

"You got work tomorrow?"

"No." She shook her head. "I  _was_ going to spend my day looking through scripts, trying to find which would be my next role." She stacked her hands on her chest, atop the blanket. "They all burned in the fire, I'm sure. I'll have to contact my agent and have them reissued."

"You're probably not gonna be allowed in your apartment for awhile… If at all, depending on the damage."

She sighed, closing her eyes.

He bumped his elbow into her arm and she turned her head to look at him. "It'll be okay," he promised her, staring at her earnestly. "You're Rachel Berry, remember? You can do anything."

The belief in her, the honesty in his face, made her smile. "What happened to not counseling the victims, only fighting the fires?"

"You're not just any victim," he said simply.

She wondered for a moment if maybe he meant more than just that.

_You're not just any girl._

If she were being truthful, Noah had never just been just any boy for her, either. But that was a long time ago, a different her and a different him.

"I'm tired," she murmured, eyes drifting closed once more as mental and physical exhaustion collided.

"Night Princess."

She couldn't help the way her lips quirked.

Falling asleep was easier than she expected, especially considering the boy next to her was incredibly handsome and half-naked. But before she knew it, she'd nodded off. Her sleep was peaceful, avoiding the horrors of fire and the destruction it brought. Instead she dreamt of a different kind of warmth. Of arms wrapped around her and smooth lips kissing down her neck. Of a familiar chuckle at her ear and calloused fingers dragging against her skin, brushing hair from her face. Fractions of images, of faces and limbs and bodies, all of the same person, flashed in her head. Briefly, she thought she woke up in the middle of the night and found herself tangled with Noah's body. But she fell back asleep so very quickly that when she was woke she wasn't sure she hadn't dreamt it. The bed was empty save for herself, Noah's side long cold.

She wondered if maybe he'd left for work and finally climbed from his bed, stretching her arms above her head and rising up on to the tips of her toes. She combed her fingers through her hair to get out the knots and wandered into the kitchen to see if he was still there or if he'd left a note saying where he'd gone. She found the apartment empty and a scrap of paper on the counter that read simply, " _Be back soon._ "

Since she didn't know when he wrote it and hadn't managed to get a cell phone number off of him in the chaos of last night, she wandered around the apartment for a few minutes. He'd brought the laundry down to be washed, she knew, because the basket was gone. After making herself breakfast and perusing the television, she finally decided to call her parents and her agent. Her dads were worried, despite the fact that she'd told them she was fine. She reassured them she'd found a place to stay for the time being and that when Kurt returned from his honeymoon with Blaine, she would be staying with them until she found a new apartment. Her agent, Jenna, promised to get new scripts for her, but she would have to bide her time for a day or two until she was able to contact everybody and have them sent over.

She'd just hung up when the door swung open and Noah walked in. Wearing jeans and a casual plaid button-down, he looked a lot more like the boy she remembered than the fearless firefighter she'd reunited with. In his arms was a box; he balanced it on his hip as he closed the door and swung his keys around his forefinger before tucking them in his pocket. He nodded hello before circling the couch to drop the box on the coffee table. "Move over."

She scooted over to the next cushion and furrowed her brows as he sat next to her.

"So it's not much, but…" He flipped the top open and tipped it over for her to see. "Your place was pretty much screwed. But there were a few things in your closet and your dresser that were still good. Mostly clothes, obviously. But there was a shoebox of pictures or whatever, and I found some shoes, so…"

She stared in shock. Dresses and a few blouses and skirts and a pair of her favorite dress pants were folded sloppily inside. The shoebox had pictures of her with friends and cast members and some of her playbills from when she first started out. When she picked up a shirt, thumb rubbing the soft as down fabric, something fell loose, and Noah reached out and caught it instinctively. In his hand was her Star of David necklace, gold and shiny, hanging on a delicate chain.

He shrugged. "Saw it on the floor when I was grabbing stuff. Figured you'd want it."

She smiled, reaching over to pluck it from his open palm. "I do." Looking up at him, she shook her head slightly. "I can't thank you enough, Noah."

"It's cool," he said, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. "You were pretty raw about losing all your stuff, thought I'd see what I could salvage."

She put her hand on his knee. "I really appreciate it."

He stared at her hand a second before nodding. "Sure."

Reaching for the box, she said, "I'm going to change."

He jerked his head in recognition and she stood from the couch. She put the box in his room, picking out a blue dress and some underwear before taking it to the shower with her. Refreshed and feeling good about being back in her own clothes, she stepped out of the bathroom with a brighter outlook. Yes, she'd lost her apartment, but she'd also regained Noah in her life, and that was a much better thing to focus on. She would start looking for an apartment to rent and contact the insurance company and everything would come together the way it was meant to.

Noah was still sitting on the couch when she returned. "Do you have anything you need to do today?" she asked him. "I wouldn't want to be a bother."

"Nah, no, I'm free." He shook his head.

"Great." She smiled. "Then maybe you have time to play for me like I asked last night."

He snorted. "Still on that, huh?"

"You know me, music has always and will always be number one with me." Taking a seat on the armchair, she rested her elbows on her knees. "So? Let's see if you've gotten rusty, Puckerman," she teased, narrowing her eyes playfully.

"You're on, Berry." Climbing from the couch, he crossed to his stereo, where she hadn't noticed the guitar case leaning before. He took his guitar from it with the same reverence as he'd had when he was younger. Retaking his seat on the couch, he balanced it on his lap, leaning back against his chest, and his arms came around it like he was cradling a lover. "Any preferences?" he asked, fingers moving and plucking smoothly, not finding any particular beat.

"Hm…" She turned her mouth to one side in thought. "You can't go wrong with a classic… Sweet Caroline?"

He grinned and his fingers moved comfortably over the strings, like he could play it in his sleep if he wanted. His voice was deeper, smoother than she remembered, and the lyrics came so very easy to him.

_Where it began,  
I can't begin to knowing,  
But then I know it's growing strong,  
Was in the spring,  
And spring became the summer,  
Who'd believe you'd come _ _along_ _…_

She swayed side to side just like she did when they were dating and he'd been trying to prove he was leading man material, that he was worth her. She regretted suddenly that she'd ever let him believe different.

As the song faded away, he was grinning.

She stared at him, her brows furrowed. "I was lucky to date you," she blurted.

He looked over at her, brow arched. "Okay…?"

"No, I…" She sighed. "I'm not sure I ever expressed that to you, but… And I know it was awful of me, to break up with you because I still had feelings with Finn."

He shrugged. "Better than staying with me and still having feelings for him."

"I only meant that…" She stared at him firmly. "You deserved to be someone's first choice." She shook her head. "And at the time, you weren't for me. You deserved better than that. Better than what I could give you."

He licked his lips. "We were kids…"

"Yeah." She smiled lightly. "Misguided, confused, desperately wrong kids."

He played with his guitar a few minutes longer, starting one song and fading into another, and she could tell, by the look on his face, that they were his. That he'd written these beautiful lyrics and the notes that went with them.

She watched from her perch on the chair, how fluidly his longer fingers moved. Sometimes he just closed his eyes and let them wander. And his head would tip, as if he was listening extra hard to every single string as they sang for him. Something relaxed in his face, a sort of peacefulness coming over him. It made him even more handsome, if that was possible. And she wondered how many people had seen him this way, this undeniably involved with his music. Connected and sincerely invested in every sound, every move of his fingers, every beat. It was beautiful.  _He_ was beautiful.

"You said 'at the time,'" he murmured, breaking the silence.

She furrowed her brow in confusion. "I'm sorry?"

"You said I wasn't your first choice ' _at the time_ …'" He opened one eye to look at her.

Her eyes widened. "Oh. Well… I…"

He half-smiled. "You ever wonder, Rachel? What would've happened if we didn't break up."

"Yes…" Her eyes fell. "Although I imagine finding out you were the father of Quinn's baby would've been much harder to take if we'd still been dating."

"Yeah…" His other eye opened and they fell to his guitar once more. "I bet you'd have stuck with me though… You were pretty dedicated to whoever you were dating."

She frowned. "I think we've established that didn't work out well in my favor."

"It's okay to be passionate," he told her, sitting forward and moving his guitar back to its case. "You just gotta know when to cut your losses and step back."

"I've learned that," she agreed. "If I hadn't, I'd be married to Finn and living in Lima still."

He grimaced. "Thank God you're not."

"Well, I wouldn't have been in a fire if I was," she mused.

He rolled his eyes. "Don't get your hopes up, Hudson's pretty accident prone. Fire's inevitable."

She laughed, shaking her head at him.

When he leaned back in his seat, he shrugged. "So let's say we made it through the Quinn and Beth drama… Let's say you stuck by me."

"And then you went to juvie."

"Yeah, but if I'd had a good girl on my arm, maybe I wouldn't've pulled that stunt," he suggested, wiggling his eyebrows.

"It wasn't a matter of who you were dating or who might temper your mischief," she told him, shaking her head. "You were upset and lost. You had a daughter out in the world that you thought you'd never see again… It was awful; that it was expressed the way it was and that you were put into juvenile hall, but… it wasn't surprising after all you'd been through."

He frowned. "You're starting to sound like my shrink."

"Well, he's helped you quite a bit apparently, so I'll take that as a compliment."

"So you've stuck by me through the juvie thing, too?" he wondered.

"If we were still dating… and had been that entire time, then, yes, I probably would have." She nodded. "You would've needed support when you left and I probably would've suggested counseling."

He hummed thoughtfully. "Ya think… We'd have made it, like, all the way?"

Her brows furrowed. "Is that a sexual reference?"

He snorted. "No… But you could answer it like it was."

She rolled her eyes. "Do I think we could've stayed together through the whole of high school? If I'd let go of Finn and let myself fall in love with you… If you'd been able to curb you insatiable promiscuity and loved me in return… If we had weathered baby drama and juvie… Then yes. Yes, I think we would have."

He stared at her, brow raised. " _But…?_ "

"There is no but." She shook her head. "After graduation, we would've wound up here, just like we are. If being a firefighter really is your calling, then you would have found a way to become one in this alternate universe of ours, too…" She nodded. "Maybe if we had stayed together, things wouldn't have been so up and down…" She shrugged. "But I suppose that's the best-case scenario. Being if I got over Finn and you stayed faithful."

"I wouldn't have cheated on you," he said seriously.

She smiled at him. "That's kind of you to say, Noah, but you can't know for sure. We were younger, different then."

"All I ever wanted was to be loved… Just one person." He shrugged. "If you were that person, I never would've hurt you."

Rachel's eyes widened, mouth parting. "Noah…"

He scoffed, shrugging. "Alternate universe though, right? Where a girl like you could've loved a guy like me."

"You underestimate yourself," she told him. "I've said it before, I was too wrapped up in Finn. But I was young and stubborn and I think sometimes I was more in love with the idea of Finn than Finn himself… The truth is, if I look back on it, you were always there, in the background, doing more for me than he ever did right at my side…" Shaking her head, she smiled sadly and said in a whisper-soft voice, "Like I said, I was  _lucky_  to date you, Noah… And possibly very  _stupid_ to let you go."

The way he was staring at her was intense. Almost too much so. Her legs felt wobbly as she stood, an overload of information and what-ifs swirling in her mind. She started toward the kitchen, asking him, "Are you hungry? I could make you something. After going through the rubble of my apartment, you probably worked up an appetite."

A hand at her back had her pausing. Her brow knotted at the pressure, at the feel of his fingers skimming slowly, warm through the thin fabric of her dress.

"I know a vegan recipe for making pancakes from scratch," she said breathlessly.

His fingers dragged up and slid around to her hip.

"I—I think I saw fruit in your crisper. I could cut some up, make a salad."

He stepped in close, body flattening at her back, and she felt his warm breath on her neck.

"Maybe you'd prefer to go out?"

"I'm good with staying in," he said, his voice low, deep.

Rachel felt her legs tremble, her heart pounding hard in her chest and echoing in her ears.

She felt his fingers moving at her hips, sliding up higher, just a little bit at a time before skimming back down, and then up, up, up, his thumb rubbing circles.

"We're not the same people we were."

She shook her head, swallowing thickly. "No, we aren't."

He moved her hair, slipping it over one shoulder to hang down her front. "You're not in love with Finn anymore."

"I haven't been for a  _very_ long time."

She felt his nose lightly graze her neck. "You've got your dream life ahead of you and there's nothing anybody can do to derail that."

"A-Absolutely."

"I'm not a fuck-up anymore…" His hands moved up her back, spread across her shoulder blades, and then slid down until they hit the small of her back before circling around her hips once more. "I don't screw everything that walks. I've got issues still, but I'm working on 'em. I've got a good job that I love."

"You…" She shook her head. "You weren't a…  _screw-up_  before, Noah," she told him earnestly. "You were just misguided and unfortunately, nobody stepped up to help you when you needed it most."

His forehead pressed against her hair and she felt his breath down the nape of her neck. "Story of my life. 'Til Coach Beiste, anyway."

She turned then, to face him properly, but didn't step out of his close proximity. "Daddy says that everything that happens in our lives shapes us, good or bad." Her hands found his chest, thumb flicking the button of a pocket absently. "Maybe you wouldn't be such an amazing singer, composer, or firefighter, if it wasn't for the suffering in your life."

He frowned thoughtfully. "Maybe." He tugged on her hair. "And maybe our time wasn't in high school… Maybe it's now."

She stared up at him. "No alternate universe, just poor timing?"

He half-smirked. "Yeah."

"I'm still an admittedly high maintenance woman," she warned.

He grinned. "Wouldn't expect anything less."

"I'm also currently homeless."

He snorted. "I'm sure you have a good reason."

"Very good… There was a fire, not of my doing. But it's okay, because I happened to meet this very handsome, very charming fireman."

"Yeah?" He quirked a brow. "Then what happened?"

Her lips curled at the corners. "You tell me."

Noah's eyes fell to her mouth and that look, so familiar, both from high school and recently, returned. This time, she didn't have to worry about Jesse and he didn't end the moment and change the subject. This time, when he learned in, she met him. Noah's kiss was familiar; she remembered it quite vividly. Rolling across her bed, his body, heavy and warm, on top of hers and between her legs. His hands skimming, reaching, always looking for more, exploring. While his mouth, his tongue and teeth, were constantly moving, meeting hers, pushing and pulling, taking and giving. There was a palpable heat then just as there was now. Only she didn't stop his hands from moving from her hips and up, skimming over her ribs and rising ever-higher until they were cupping her breasts, thumbs rubbing, pressing against the hard points of her nipples encased in blue fabric.

Mouths slanted, breaths taken deep and desperate in between each stroke of his tongue and the close of his mouth around hers, taking her top lip between his. He backed her up, her feet stumbling slightly. His arms wrapped back around her to keep her steady, fingers gripping her dress, pressing into her back. Until finally they were at the table. He hauled her up until she sat on the edge, her dress pulling up at her thighs. He stood between the part of her legs, close enough that he could grind into her, rubbing at the apex of her thighs, the hard bulge beneath his jeans pressing so close and yet not close enough. He leaned into her, one of his hands cradling the back of her neck, her head tipped, his mouth meeting hers with a desperate passion that made her insides warm, her stomach twist, her legs shake. His fingers dragged down her body, from her shoulders to her waist and then back and around to her front, where his hips were rolling, still rubbing and pressing against her. He fingered the edge of her collar before he brought his hands down, fingers spread, skimming over her breasts and down over her stomach and lower still to the ends of her dress. She wanted him to open it, to undo every button from the top of her dress to the bottom, to part the fabric and press those long, callused fingers against her skin. She wanted to feel his fingertips close around her tipple, his rough palm scraping against the underside of her breast. And his mouth; she wanted it everywhere.

"God, I've wanted this," he muttered, pulling away from her mouth only to bury his face in her neck.

She squeaked, gripping his shoulders, furling his shirt up in his fingers, when his teeth scraped and his tongue soothed.

"So long, so fucking long…" His hands were on her knees and moving up, and yes, God  _yes_ , she loved the feel of his skin on hers. Rough and warm and heavy as his fingers reached between the cover of her dress and danced over the tops of her thighs. They slid along the sides, drawing circles, dragging his fingers up the length to her knee before sliding all the way back until he was just  _centimeters_ away from where she could feel she was wet, soaking through her panties.

"Noah," she whined. "Touch me."

He paused momentarily, and when she opened her eyes, he was staring at her, like he wasn't sure he'd heard her right.

She took his hand and guided it in close, until his knuckles were pressed against where her underwear was sticking to her, her clit throbbing beneath the fabric. " _Touch_ me," she told him.

His mouth crashed against hers almost painfully as he leaned her back, his hands sliding up the outside of her thighs and gripping either side of her panties. He slid them down from the curves of her ass so swift and easy that she didn't even have time to try and lift herself. Her dress bunched in her lap as her legs lifted in the air at the jerking motion. She felt her underwear give and he had them down her thighs, caught on her knees, forcing him to step back enough to take them down the rest of her legs before throwing them away.

"Lean back," he told her.

She fell back on her elbows, still lifted enough to see him.

He parted her legs further and she drew her knees up, balancing her heels on the very edge of the table. His hands slid down her thighs once more, almost too slowly for her to take. He seemed to know it too, seeing as he was smirking at her while she was biting hard at her lip, feeling the shake in her thighs. He let out a small, thick chuckle. Before she could chastise him, his fingers were on her, parting her, skimming against the wet heat of her folds. When he licked his lips, she knew it was only going to get better. Rachel had never watched a boy go down on her. In fact, she'd only experienced it a handful of times. Finn was the clumsiest and she had decided shortly after that it wasn't something she needed in her life. Later, however, in NYADA and after, she'd realized it could be much more pleasurable when a boy knew what he was doing. The way Noah was looking at her made her think she was going to be further surprised by just how good it could be.

Noah took her words to heart, touching her slowly, even reverently. He massaged all around, every so often letting the corner of his thumb glide against her clit. He slid first one finger inside her and curled it back toward himself, when a second joined and did the same, she felt him rub against something inside her, something that made her toes curl and her breath catch. She'd heard of the G-spot, she'd just never known where it was or how to find it. Apparently Noah did. His fingers moved slowly, sinking into her deep and separating slowly, at random, before curling and rubbing that spot again and again, only to stop as soon as she felt it building. His free hand covered her stomach, holding her down as he slid his fingers out and circled her entrance, teetering on the edge, teasing her.

As her breath evened out, he reached up and started unbuttoning her dress, parting it, letting his knuckled drag against her skin. For the first time since he'd returned some of her things to her, she thought maybe having no bras wasn't a bad thing. Noah's hand covered one breast, and she got her wish of having him cover and pluck her nipple, thrumming it as the fingers of his other hand thrust back inside her. She arched up, neck strained as her head fell back. He slid his hand from her chest and continued unbuttoning her dress until it was completely open, and spread it so it lay on either side of her. She squirmed, moving her hips side to side. Wanting him to move deeper, harder, to rub that spot and touch her clit.

"Impatient," he told her. "You know how long I had to wait for this? I'm not wasting it, Rach…"

"Noah, Noah, please…" She cupped her own breasts, thumbs rubbing, pressing against her aching nipples.

"You're so wet, Rachel… So tight and hot and  _wet_." He curled his fingers.

She let out an unintelligible noise and squeezed around him.

She felt him move then and looked to see his head had ducked and his face was much closer now. As he drew his fingers out, he wiped them on her thigh briefly before he was holding her open. His eyes met hers as his tongue flattened against her, dragging from end to end, flicking as it met her clit. His eyes closed briefly. "So good… So sweet…" Another lick, slow and savoring, and she swore she could feel every one of his taste buds rasping against her. While his mouth moved, suckling and kissing, tongue swirling and licking, his finger slid inside her once more, just enough to stimulate and never enough to fully satisfy.

Rachel reached down, one of her hands falling to his head, wishing the 'hawk was there if only for something to grab onto. She cried out when his teeth grazed her clit. "More, more, more," she murmured deliriously.

But Noah liked how she squirmed and panted and tried to press herself into his mouth and his probing tongue. It wasn't until she was sure he'd never let her climax that he finally started suckling her clit in earnest, his fingers filling and curling and rubbing that spot just right. And then she was crying out, slapping her hands against the table as she came. When she fell back to the table, her whole body was vibrating and she wasn't sure she had control of her legs any longer. Tiny shockwaves kept zinging through her, making everything pulse and shiver.

And then her eyes found him, his mouth glistening, his hands stroking her hips while his head rested on her thigh. He was still watching her come down, and licked his lips clean when he realized she was staring back.

She pushed herself up letting her feet drift off the table, and tugged on his ears to get him to stand up properly. She reached for his shirt first, unbuttoning it from the bottom up. He shrugged it off his shoulders and let it fall away before stripping off the wife-beater he had on beneath. One of her hands reached for his belt to deftly undo it, while the other spread across his stomach, fingers dipping in the lines of his abdomen, hard and rippling with each heavy breath he took.

Buckle, zipper, and button undone, he shoved his jeans, thumbs hooked in his underwear, to the ground. Rachel's teeth found her lower lip as she took him in, long and hard, twitching before her eyes. Her hand wrapped around him, the skin of his cock soft and warm. She barely paused before her mouth was wrapped around the tip, her tongue flicking, tasting the pre-cum that beaded at the slit. He muffled a groan, one of his hands burying in her hair. She sucked on him, her tongue circling, before sliding him further into her mouth. The angle didn't leave her much room though and she decided she would have to show him the wonders of her lack of gag reflex later, preferably in an actual bed, where she had the freedom of moving around more and not having to climb off the table, knees digging into the linoleum.

When she sat back up, she licked her lips and tugged him closer by the hips.

His mouth slanted across hers and she tasted herself on his tongue. She hummed and slid her fingers up his sides, digging in. He was so solid, so broad and hard and warm. She breathed his name into his mouth and his kiss gentled. His hands cupped her face, thumbs stroking her cheeks. And she thought of what he'd said, about only ever wanting somebody to love him. And maybe she didn't yet, maybe it took more than just a crash reunion and a whole lot of chemistry, but she did know that she  _could_. She could love this man; this amazing, wonderful, heroic man. And she _wanted_ to. One day. She wanted to explore this far past just the kitchen tale or the bedroom. She wanted to explore what it would be like to be with him, fully and completely, without the added weight of Finn Hudson or Quinn Fabray or anything except just the two of them.

He had to stop to grab the condom from his wallet, but she couldn't say she cared when he was finally sinking into her seconds later. Her mouth opened in a silent cry, her knees hitching high on his hips. Rachel could count on one hand how many men she'd been with. Noah was the first one that she was sure filled her entirely. He was also the first one who knew, without a doubt, what he was doing. He went from slow, swirling hips, and shallow thrusts to quick, deep, and hard in a matter of seconds, changing it up whenever she got used to it. His hand slid between them to tease her clit as he moved. He bent her back so he could press open-mouthed kisses over her chest, taking her nipples between his teeth and lips, tongue lapping.

A sheen of sweat collected on their skin and they moved almost sloppily against each other, chests rubbing as he sunk into her, his hands smoothing over her back, holding her steady, nearly off the table she was gathered so close, the angle making sure his cock rubbed against her clit each time he moved. She bit at his chest, sinking her teeth when she was so close her toes curled and her nails dug into his shoulders. But he slowed down and sucked her neck, creating what she was sure would be one of his infamous hickeys.

It wasn't until she was rolled over onto her stomach and his hands drew her hips back as he slid into her from behind, bent over her, mouth moving down her back, that they finally found relief. He pistoned in and out of her without pause, fingers rubbing her clit quick and hard, until she came once and then again, almost back to back, her eyes closed, fingers clawing at the table, crying his name over and over. And when he twitched inside her, her walls clenching and gripping him, she leaned back, pressing into him as he panted her name against her skin, bottoming out inside her and riding the waves of his climax.

They laid like that for awhile, trying to catch their breath and waiting for their bodies to stop shaking. Until finally, he drew her boneless body up in his arms and carried her into the bathroom. He passed her a wet rag while he disposed of the condom and grabbed a cloth of his own to clean up with. He didn't say anything when she borrowed his brush to fix her hair and tie it up in a knot, out of the way. Instead he pressed a kiss to her bare shoulder and a few more against her neck. When she was done, she hopped down, and his arms slid back around her as they walked toward his bedroom.

She was tired and everything was still buzzing and the cool sheets of his bed felt fantastic against her skin. He kicked the blanket down and away and pulled her against his side. With her head resting on his shoulder and her leg curved around his, she spread a hand over his chest and lazily drew shapes.

"I hope you don't do this with every girl who loses an apartment to a fire," she muttered.

He snorted. "Only the cute ones I had the hots for in high school."

She scoffed, turning her eyes up to him. "Wouldn't that list be kind of long?"

He shrugged. "Fine, only the hot, crazy, Broadway actresses that I didn't think I was good enough for in high school."

"Noah…" She shook her head. "You seem to forget that I made a lot of mistakes in high school too… I wasn't perfect. Far from it!" Her brows hiked. "There's a reason we're together now and not then. We've both grown up and we don't have those same problems or anchors as before…" She patted his chest. "Meaning when I fall in love with you, it'll be without restraint. And you won't have to second guess my feelings. Just like I won't be worried about whether or not you still love Quinn or Santana or you'll leave me for them or cheat on me." She smiled. "We're going to do this right. We're going to build a relationship with trust and honesty."

"And hot monkey sex."

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, and an extremely satisfying sex life."

"Score."

She snorted.

Grinning, he leaned down and kissed her. "'m glad I found you again," he said as he pressed her back into the bed.

Rachel's fingers danced over his temple and down his face. "Me too."

Later, as she laid listening to Noah's steady heartbeat, feeling his fingers rub circles in her skin, she pondered their good fortune.

Maybe it was a fluke that one of old Miss. Brennan's cats knocked her incense down, a coincidence that Noah was working that night and happened to recognize her in the crowd, or maybe it was serendipity or fate stepping in to put them on the right track. All she knew for sure was that a new life had begun from the ashes of her old one, and it would be rebuilt with a better, stronger foundation with Noah at her side. And nothing, not even fire, would touch it.

[ **End.]**


End file.
